Harry sighed as he copied notes about that day's Potions lecture. This had become his simplest course by far. Aside from Malfoy's first loud and lewd comments in the Great Hall the night of Valentines, the students were unsurprisingly silent around the Potions Master. Harry suspected it was more out of fear than respect.

Outside of Potions, however, tongues continued to wag. Harry had become a mockery, even within his own House, as students jeered at him about his supposed affair. Kids could be cruel, and that cruelty was levied against him now, as it always seemed to be. He knew that the intention was to hurt him, but he found it impossible to pay them any mind. It was his friends, and their loose talk, which stung him deeply. The sting of betrayal was fresh, a gaping knife wound in his back, as they continued to whisper about him in spite of their claims of unerring support.

And it was the whispers that dug at him the worst. He could withstand the jeers and torment, even what he faced daily in letters from the concerned public, had had plenty of practice, but the whispers…They did not follow him alone. He had done his best, since Valentine's Day, to steer clear of Snape, but he knew the man was suffering as badly as he was, if not worse. Harry could ignore the taunts, and the occasional crude drawing thrown at the back of his head, but he didn't know that the Potions Master was as easily ignorant. For days now, he had longed for the man's companionship, but he hadn't dared to seek it out for fear of embarrassing them both further. If, that was, Snape still wanted anything to do with him.

With these thoughts of self-doubt (because really, why would anyone think him worth the trouble he had thus far caused), came the suffocating guilt about his growing attraction. It was this, more than anything, that kept his silence in the face of adversity. It terrified the Wizarding Savior, to think what would happen if he slipped. Merlin forbid, if his accusers, or worse, if Snape, discovered the astringent desire he'd begun to feel towards the former Death Eater.

"Potter, remain."

Harry flinched when this command elicited obnoxious coos and a sharp, provocative whistle from the other students. The low ring of the magical bell echoed through Hogwarts, signaling the end of class. Harry began packing away his things with the rest of the NEWT students. He kept his head down. That was the major rule he knew to live by. It was impossible for anyone to accuse you to your face if you refused to meet their eye.

"Get out." Snape growled from the front of the classroom.

The students left, but not without further crooning and derisive giggles. Harry finished packing away his things and sat heavily on his stool. It was exhausting, to keep up the pretense of being unaffected by the words of those around you. More exhausting was the thought of what he would face after this minor indiscretion. The corridors of Hogwarts, his home, had become a battlefield of words, and tears threatened anytime he remembered that he was losing the fight.

"You've stopped coming to see me," Snape said pointedly as he moved down amongst the student desks to stand across the aisle from the Gryffindor.

Harry shrugged, staring at his knees. "I honestly didn't think you'd want me to. The rumors…"

"I have become aware of them," Snape spoke quietly.

Harry nodded and they were silent for a moment.

"Potter, the reason for my request…I have been made aware, that, as a result of the rumors amidst the students, and the resultant article in the Daily Prophet, there shall be an official inquiry," Snape said, his voice still low. "I felt it prudent to warn you about what you, and your friends, will face once the inquiry begins."

Harry listened with a slowly sinking heart as the Potions Master explained in detail what would happen under the guidelines of the inquiry. The tears that had threatened since the cruelty had begun stung at his eyes as he realized, for the first time, what his weakness had truly wrought. Snape could lose his position at the school, be branded permanently for something they hadn't even done. He tried to blink back the salty stab of his tears, but they would not be banished now and began to flow freely down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," Harry murmured, his voice straining past the lump that had formed in his throat. He was surprised when long fingers carded gently through the hair at the back of his head.

"Why?"

Harry was surprised further when those calloused fingers trailed along his head, to his cheek, stopping under his tucked chin to gently force him to look up into the concerned, curious black gaze. Even through his heart-wrenching tears, he felt a pang of guilt-laden desire flare in his chest upon realizing how close he and the Potions Master were. He shoved the urge to kiss the man violently away as he was drawn into a compassionate embrace. He laid his head almost drunkenly against the hard sternum and wrapped his arms around the bent back as his tears continued.